Word: cravingly
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Sympathy, in fact, is something the new advance guard demands. Far from wishing to needle the bourgeoisie, as did the School-of-Paris moderns half a century ago, the young pioneers of American painting crave appreciation. When it is not forthcoming, some of them sulk and some shrug. But none of them seems to laugh. "To refashion the fashioned, lest it stiffen into iron, means an endless vital activity," they argue with Goethe. They solemnly reiterate that since impressionism, cubism and abstractionism have proved meaningful over the years, abstract expressionism will, too. And curiously enough, this wishful argument-by-analogy...
...earned Tenderfoot ratings. A few are Second Class Scouts. The most significant thing about their accomplishment, Scoutmaster Alan Conley believes, is that all of them have genuinely earned their advancement: the program has been modified, but not simplified, for their benefit. "We have learned," says Conley, "that these boys crave responsibility. Before, they were always treated like babies. No one gave them responsibility because it was felt they did not want it. Now they are thankful for what they have, and they are happy...
...Some people's appetites crave an All-College Congress of Joy," Kimball continued. "I am sympathetic, but unmoved. When they have lived with their urge longer, they may be able to predict its arrival earlier, and not tend to conflict with more orderly procedures, like operas. Enthusiasm must be curbed" he said...
...occasion requires. "When I do a show for Camel News Caravan, I'm a Camel man.'' he says stoutly. "And I feel the same way about the others (Reynolds aluminum. Dodge. Maxwell House) when I work for them.'' But what the sponsors increasingly crave is a man like Ed Sullivan, who has given blood in San Francisco, landed in a helicopter on Boston Common, and submerged in a Navy diver's suit, all for the glory of Lincoln-Mercury...
...Gascon, though some say of Norman descent, When starved till faint gazed up at a trellis to which grapes were tied- Matured till they glowed with a purplish tint As though there were gems inside. Now grapes were what our adventurer on strained haunches chanced to crave, But because he could not reach the vine He said, "These grapes are sour, I'll leave them for some knave." Better, I think, than an embittered whine...